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"Tell me more about this vineyard. I know Dom bought it to flip for a client, but I don't have any of the details."
Danger alarms began to sound in his head. He let his eyes scan the room, searching for a distraction. The one most guaranteed to distract him was nowhere to be seen. "We are still nailing them down. That's probably why he hasn't told you anything. Actually, you just reminded me. I need to talk to Frankie about something. Have you seen her?"
"She stepped outside for some air."
"Great, thanks. And thanks for what you said too. It means a lot."
"I'm trying to own my mistakes better, and I think I was wrong about you, Jake Ryland."
Jake turned and headed for the door, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck where it prickled.
Why did her reluctant approval send warmth down his spine? Straight-up compliments from his mother generally had the opposite effect, turning his blood ice-cold. It was good preparation so he could freeze out whatever request was coming next. But this, this apology, came with nothing attached, no emotional blackmail, no expectations. Jake was glad he'd already turned away, or he might've given in to the urge to hug Jo and let loose the tears clutching in the back of his throat. He had a feeling she'd understand.
Instead, he coughed the tightness free and set his empty beer on the bar before heading outside into the crisp San Francisco evening.
Coming from LA, he was always amazed at how different the weather could be in the Bay Area. It was a cold and clear March night in Ghirardelli Square overlooking the bay, but that afternoon had been warm and sunny farther down the peninsula. The other day the vineyards had hit eighty. He shivered and rued forgoing a jacket.
Scanning the bustling courtyard, he frowned. Even though he'd only used Frankie as an excuse to avoid giving away the surprise of the vineyard to Jo, he didn't want to be a liar. He did have things he could talk to her about.
But he'd have to find her first.
He crossed to the raised fountain and climbed the short stairs for a better view. How hard could it be to find one person? Jake turned slowly in a circle until his eyes snagged on a pair of truly excellent legs in high heels. Trim ankles, muscular calves, scarred knees, toned thighs that disappeared under a tight black sweater dress. His eyes kept traveling higher, admiring the fit of the dress and the long swing of dark hair that reached nearly to her waist.
It wasn't until his gaze landed on her face that he realized he was staring at Frankie.
Thank God she was staring longingly at the steaming cup in her hands.
"Hey, there you are." He sloughed back down the stairs and crossed the courtyard to her. "You're missing your party."
"It couldn't be helped. I needed to get my hot cocoa hit. How can you stand there, smelling the Ghirardelli chocolate, and not need a fix?"
"You're right."
For a hot second, Jake considered the best way to get a taste of that chocolate. He could kiss her again, but even though she looked like a different person with the hair and the legs and the shoes, she was still Frankie Valenti and still out of bounds.
Instead he snagged the cup from her hand and took a deep swallow that singed his tongue. Her brows furrowed and she yelped in protest, snatching her treat back.
"Damn, that's hot," Jake cursed.
"Serves you right for stealing my cocoa, asshole. What is this, third grade where you make moony eyes at a girl and then steal her pencil and pull her braid?"
Shit, she'd seen him stare. And it was a bad idea to think about how he wanted to pull her hair right now. Awkward.Divert! Divert!
"I don't know. I never went."
Now she was staring at him like she'd never seen him before. "What do you mean, you never went?"
"I never went to third grade. There were on-set tutors for me and the other kids on the show, so I don't know what third grade was like."
Her face blanked, like he'd truly stunned her, before she rallied her snark. "Well, then let me inform you that it is not polite to snatch a girl's hot chocolate from her hands and drink half of it. If we were still in third grade, I'd kick you in the nuts for that."
Jake knew he was pushing it, but he deliberately took a step closer and leaned into her space. "And what are you going to do about it now?"
Frankie's face turned red and her mouth opened and closed like a fish. "God, I really want to dump the rest of this over your head, but also what a waste of good chocolate. Why is adulting so hard sometimes?" she whined with a grin, before turning and walking away from him.
Those heels added a swinging saunter to her step that her steel-toed work boots did not. He followed two steps behind her as she made her way back to the brewery, and manfully tried not to stare at her ass.
When her heel betrayed her on the bricked pavement of the patio, he was close enough to catch her. With a hand on her hip, his arm wrapped around her waist, he looked down into eyes the same molten brown as the chocolate in her hand and lost his breath. Under the hanging strands of bulbs, she leaned into his side and the chill in the air disappeared. Heat flared where she touched him. The quick contrast of hot and cold sent a chill down the back of his neck, and he ran a hand over it to make it disappear.
